


no rest for the wicked

by cexies



Category: Fallout: New Vegas, Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:59:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cexies/pseuds/cexies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The constant chase of fox and hound in casino bars and sleazy motels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no rest for the wicked

New Vegas was generally unforgiving to those who stayed righteous, quickly allowing them to build up enemies and leaving hardly any ways to make a prosperous living. The struggles of such a life were all part of the adventure to Terezi Pyrope, who had yet to meet her end or limit. Her days knew no rest, travelling as she saw fit to take on tasks that would help restore the justice to the history and legend of Las Vegas. Such adventures often led her into running about with folks who were better left alone or dead, in some cases. The familiar face of Vriska Serket seemed to turn up most frequent, always swindling someone out of something. While Terezi was Goodsprings born and bred, Vriska’s backstory seemed to come from the ominous vaults—a story few people ever lived, or escaped, to tell.

“So one day, I’m done,” Vriska shouts, all but alerting everyone else in Gomorrah to her presence. While most are trying to ignore her claims, Terezi has been listening for the good part of an hour. If there’s anything Vriska is useful for, it’s reassuring Terezi that she is not a narcissist—no one could live up to the traits of self-adoration that the gambler puts down on the table. Sighing as another mouthful of Whiskey hits the back of her throat, the older woman leaves her seat at the bar, joining the small group that have crowded around Serket.

“You were done? In a vault where you can only gamble? A vault which is basically across the road from here? You got very far with being done. ”

It’s almost amusing for Terezi to make out Vriska’s disgruntled appearance as she speaks up, her vision too murky inside the casino to pick up on the little quirks of her personality that make her so much more delicious to wind up.

“Pyrope,” she hisses, although Terezi likes to imagine it would sound better as a whine of defeat—they both know that she cannot be bested in passive aggressive remarks: she is simply the best there is.

“Well?”

“Ugh is there even anything in your big head? Does it just rattle if I shake it?” Vriska rolls her eyes, unimpressed by Terezi’s entrance. The latter girl simply raises an eyebrow in response, challenging the other to lay a hand on her head and see how far it gets the two of them. “I was done with being at the mercy of luck; I didn’t have to play by someone else’s rules. I took luck and I wrapped her round my little finger, then I bled her dry for every chip and cap I could get,” she leans in, voice laced with the seduction that caught Lady Luck’s attention in the first place.

Terezi doesn’t bother to comment on whether luck is a tangible concept that will break under the will of mortals. The idea of luck being controlled seems to be a contradiction in itself, but there isn’t much point in slipping that small detail either. Firstly, Vriska would probably brush it aside with warped logic—who knows what else will crumple under her will, and Terezi is not going to risk her own sanity as the bargaining chip. Perhaps the most important reason is that there’s no reason to push down someone’s spirit and assurance in themselves. No fool would claim they could control such a feat unless they believed themself, and Terezi respects the confidence in Vriska’s self over the objective measurement of her claims.

“If you bled luck dry, doesn’t that imply that she has nothing left to give you?” The younger woman snorts in return, amused and astounded at the same time.

“The world owes me everything, and I’m gonna take it.”

“I’m sure the world is just falling to its knees to pander to an entitled brat.”

“Hey! I only want the world’s fortune, but what do you want? I bet left to your own devices you’d strip the world of all it owned and then demolish it to the bones. You probably eat flesh too.”

“I’d rip it from your bones with delight!” Terezi flirts, tongue dragging across her teeth with calculate precision. She has no surprise when Vriska flushes, already speculating the woman to be have less bite than her bark wants Terezi to believe. She giggles carelessly, swirling her glass before taking another swig. The group surrounding Vriska finally take this as enough discomfort to shift away, each inch being tracked by Terezi with tedious patience.

“You’re a liar, a horrible flirt and a gross excuse of a human being,” Vriska quickly reels, listing off so many compliments that Terezi is practically glowing by then end of her outburst.

“You’re loving every second of it,” she grins, mouth dragging upwards in a lazy taunt. How easy it is to dare Vriska to deny it, as if to gloat from the difficulty of complying with such a taunt.  

“Why do you always stalk me? You’re soooooooo obsessed with me. It makes me sick.”

The way Vriska’s vowels elongate is another quirk that Terezi can’t help but dine upon, wanting to draw them out louder and faster until her own name falls into the mix. She can’t bend Vriska to her will, but she can certainly try to break the woman under her touch. She’ll give her something to wrap her fingers around that isn’t a chip or a card, pushing stakes higher than any game of Caravan could. However, such an ending isn’t within sight today—if they reach the end, there’s no more game to play. She doesn’t want to give up their banter and snarling just yet, there’s something much more rewarding about waiting it out until she can finally have what she wants.

Her thoughts are broken by Vriska growing bored of Terezi’s silence—standing up and taking her drink with her, vodka again, the remaining woman notes. While the gambler moves, she stays within Terezi’s line of vision as she joins as casino table, fingertips skimming across the wood of the playing area as if they were born to be there—or placed to tempt imagination (probably the latter.) They both know that Vriska wants her to watch; she wants her win to be validated by the contempt that will cross Terezi’s face as she gloats in a drunken stupor. Maybe tonight, Terezi muses as she places her drink on the table while Vriska picks her own up, validation can come through mouths touching, instead of talking.

**Author's Note:**

> i meant for this to be a one shot but now i'm considering writing more so........ maybe there will be more


End file.
